


All The Things That You Never Told Me (And All The Wounds...)

by Baamon5evr



Series: 14 Days of Samsteve [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, Established Relationship, Guilt, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9325361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baamon5evr/pseuds/Baamon5evr
Summary: According to him, Steve wasn’t the pinnacle of mental wellness that Fury wanted him to be. With Tony’s blunder now looming over every move the Avengers made, the last thing they needed was a leader who wasn’t managing his PTSD.Now if only Steve could've admitted this for himself before irrevocable damage was done.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags before reading this. This contains flashbacks of war scenes and conversations as well as descriptions of domestic violence. Heed the warning.

The 24 hour restaurant/bakery wasn’t run down but it wasn’t in the best condition either. There were seven booths and four tables there. Four of the booths’ vinyl seating was peeling off and half of the tables had grease stains that weren’t coming out no matter how hard they were scrubbed. The color scheme consisted of yellow, green and black in favor of one of the owners' Jamaican heritage. It was a Caribbean-Soul fusion joint nestled somewhere between the Avengers Complex upstate and the city. He and Sam discovered it on one of their trips to Harlem to visit Sam's sister. Sam loved this place. He said they made food like his mother did. Having tasted Darlene’s cooking, a mixture of Caribbean, Cajun and Soul, Steve could attest to the veracity of that statement.

Despite the beat up look of the place, it was warm and he was enough of a regular to be on a first name basis with the owners. He hadn’t consciously decided to come to this place but after tonight, after what he said and what he did…

He couldn’t stay at the Complex. He couldn’t look at Sam. He didn’t deserve to be in the same space as him. He looked down at his hands. He never thought he could hurt Sam and yet he had.

~*~*~

Sam loved being an Avenger. With his history, it was easily something that could weigh on him or cause him distress and sometimes it did but mostly he loved it. This war was his choice. He wanted to fight, he wanted to strap the wings on and protect people.

Steve had decided to put their search for Bucky on the backburner in favor of paying more attention to global threats. When the question of Sam joining the Avengers came up, it wasn’t really something that required a lot of thought. Sam didn’t like being idle and more than that, he would much rather be globe-trotting to make sure no one got ahold of any of Stark’s renegade robot’s spare parts than sitting in a hotel in the backend of beyond by himself.

The first month was hard. Natasha made all the new recruits go through intensive combat training and Sam was put through his paces. He wasn’t as young as he was when he first went through basic but he got the hang of it eventually. He settled into the Complex at a good pace as well. It had seemed cold at first but he befriended Colonel Rhodes and Wanda quickly and he liked getting to be with Nat and Steve as well as his sister and nephews on a regular basis. Vision was weird but Sam made the best of it.

He transferred therapists and now had bi-weekly sessions with Dr. Singh along with keeping up with his prescriptions. He had even started making trips down to the VA in the city despite the long commute. He still had nightmares, he still had his bad days and sometimes he woke up screaming but things were going okay.

Then there was Steve.

Sam wasn’t sure what to do with Steve. He seemed fine when he made the choice to stop looking for Bucky. He said that what Stark had done proved that his attentions weren’t best served split between the Avengers and Bucky. Sam agreed. He figured out pretty early on that Barnes was more self-sufficient and self-aware than anyone gave him credit for. That didn't mean he didn't need help but he had to come to that decision on his own and Sam wanted Steve to realize that for himself. Bucky wasn’t the only skeleton in his closet though and he didn’t think Steve wanted to acknowledge that either. Any attempt Sam made to coax him into seeing Dr. Singh was shut down unequivocally and Sam, for all his training, was floundering.

“I mean, is it the 40s mindset?” Sam mused out loud to Natasha as they entered the kitchen after training. Sam felt like shit but Natasha was making his favorite smoothie because he managed to break her thigh hold so he didn’t focus on the pain.

“Can’t be. We went over all that when he first came off the ice. He had to do mandatory sessions before he could be an active SHIELD member. After that he didn’t continue his therapy.” That explained some things. Steve knew the right things to say to get Sam off his back if he didn’t want to argue. It made sense that he’d been around the block with therapists before.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Natasha asked, throwing the ingredients into the blender.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course he doesn’t. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

“It's Steve. I can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“You don’t have to use force to get him to do it.” Sam looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“That sounds like it would require some serious moral acrobatics.” Natasha shrugged.

“Depends on your morals I guess.”

“Why can’t you just talk to him, Nat?” Sam asked and it wasn't a whine, he had more dignity than that... barely.

“If he isn’t listening to you, what makes you think I can get through to him?” She asked with a snort.

“Give yourself some credit. Steve likes you, he respects you, he listens to you.” Sam replied. A small smile curled on Natasha’s lips before it fell just as quickly.

“Fury’s been noticing that Steve is off."

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that, despite Fury working in the shadows, he still wants what’s best for this team. Especially after Tony’s blunder. By this time the new Avengers team was supposed to be doing interviews with “Good Morning America” and having magazine articles with obviously photoshopped pictures published. Steve’s supposed to be the leader of all of that but he’d rather sulk in his room. The fact that he's more physically prime than ever is irrelevant. His emotional and mental state is a liability, one Fury doesn’t want in the field unless Steve’s actively doing something about it. He’s not wrong. We need to maintain a certain level of transparency. Steve’s a part of that and he can't do it right now.” Sam sighed in response.

“And if Steve isn’t with the program, what then?”

“Then Fury’s going to take him out of the field. It’ll appeal to his hero complex, his ego if nothing else. If that doesn’t work he’s going to take _you_ out of the field. That’ll appeal to his overwhelming sense of guilt when it comes to you. If that doesn’t work then I guess we’ll drag him to therapy kicking and screaming.” Besides the fact that it would physically be difficult to accomplish short of calling in some pretty big guns, Sam knew that Steve needed to admit he had a problem. He didn’t see him admitting to the bigger picture problem, whatever it was, unless under extreme duress. Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Natasha handed him the smoothie with a pat on the back.

“You did good with training today, that’s something to be happy about.” Sam smiled genuinely.

“Soon I’ll be able to take you to the mat.” Natasha chuckled.

“Don’t count on it but I do want you on this next mission with me. Just us. I was going to bring Steve but…”

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be good to get out of the house and punch something.”

 _And not be near Steve_ , Sam didn’t say but Natasha could still hear it in his voice. She gave him a sympathetic look before walking out.

“I’ll give you more details soon. You should talk to Steve though.” Sam nodded, completely dreading seeing Steve again.

He was saved from talking to him by a mission that had Steve away with Sharon for three days and by the time he returned it’d be less than a day before Sam had to leave.

He took a moment to wonder how they got here. Steve wasn’t Sam’s patient, he was his boyfriend. He shouldn’t think about talking to him as a burden but in this case, it was.

Sam was cooking dinner when Steve returned. Sam looked up with a smile as he came into the kitchen, freshly showered.

“Hey, how’d it go?” He asked as Steve pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Everything went according to plan… for the most part anyway.” He said, sitting down on a stool. Sam glanced over at him. He looked tense and coiled up. Sam opened his mouth to ask before thinking better of it. He couldn’t talk to him like this. He looked over his pots on the stove, everything was finished so he would have some time.

“The stewed beef needs some time to cool. Why don’t we go up to the bedroom?” Steve rose an eyebrow suggestively causing Sam to roll his eyes.

“Not like that, or not completely anyway. You look like you’re all knots. I stopped by the Body Shop a couple days ago and picked up some aromatherapy oils. I can work ‘em out.”

“You sure? You just spent however long cooking, I don’t want to bother you.”

“Steve, come on. I like doing it.” Sam beckoned him and pulled him off the stool towards their bedroom. He motioned for Steve to take off his shirt and silently pushed him on the bed on his stomach. He went to the bathroom, opened the cabinet and began reading out the various oils he’d bought.

“We got eucalyptus and spearmint, jasmine and vanilla, lavender and vanilla, orange and ginger, black chamomile, cedar and sage and sandalwood rose.”

“Eucalyptus and spearmint.” Sam nodded, it’d be a strong scent but then again that was the point. He wanted to have Steve be relaxed and calm before he talked to him about things. Besides, at least Steve didn't mind this kind of therapy (not that he'd ever ask Sam to do it). He washed his hands and grabbed the bottle as well as a towel before going back over to the bed and climbing up. He threw the towel over Steve’s ass before settling on his thighs.

He worked through Steve’s muscles efficiently and largely in silence except for the soft music playing from his iPhone to fill the air. Steve grew more and more relaxed under him, his body slowly melting into the bed as Sam dug his fingers and palms into his flesh, rubbing out all the tension pent up in him.

“Damn, that took a while.” Sam said as he finally managed to bust a knot in Steve’s left shoulder after ten minutes of working at it.

“I knew something wasn’t right but I didn’t know that was there.” Steve mumbled into the pillow.

“You gotta take better care of yourself, baby. Sure, you heal pretty good but things like that knot could be a problem later down the line.” Sam advised, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of Steve’s head to soften his words.

“Won’t have to worry about that for a while.” Steve said, his voice betraying some anger.

“Oh?” Sam asked, pushing himself up and kneading the muscles at Steve’s lower back.

“Fury took me out of the field. Unless there’s a big, public incident I’m cut off. I thought he was kidding but when I tried to get a rundown of what missions were coming up, Rhodes and Nat shut me out. Can you believe that? All because I don’t want to go to therapy.” Sam opened his mouth to say something before closing it back again. On one hand, he was happy that Fury had been the one to tell Steve so he was off the hook. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure what to say now. The silence stretched on long enough for something to tweak for Steve.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” He asked, anger simmering in his voice.

“Natasha passed the message along before you and Sharon left.” He admitted.

“Sam—”

“What was I supposed to say, huh? Was I supposed to lie to you and tell you I didn’t agree with Fury and that I’ve accepted the fact that no matter how I much I talk at you, you won’t go to therapy? I can’t change your mind and I sure as hell can’t change Fury’s so I just let the chips fall.” Steve pushed himself up prompting Sam to slip off him.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.”

“Why does there need to be sides? Even though he has a controlling way of showing it, Fury wants you to be okay and he wants to protect everyone. You’re a part of that but if you can barely get a decent night's sleep then something needs to change.”

“We knew it was going to be hard living here. I'll get used to the bed eventually." Steve replied. Sam shook his head.

“Steve, it’s not about living in a new place or a mattress, it’s about my peace of mind and your mental health. What if you get hurt one day or killed? You’re a supersoldier but there’s no coming back from a bullet to the dome. Between the war and the 70 years under ice and Bucky and Peggy and probably a million other things you don’t talk about, there’s a reason we think you need therapy.” Sam explained as calmly as he could.

“I talk to you!” Steve retorted.

“Barely! You haven’t mentioned Bucky once since we’ve been here and you’ve never muttered so much as a word about Sokovia.” Sam protested.

“What would I have to say about that?”

“You almost died! If it wasn’t for a last-minute hail Mary, you wouldn’t be here. You’re repressing things and it’s not doing any of us any favors. You need to talk to someone or join a fight club or something. I don’t know what, but you need an outlet. Besides, Fury said if you don’t meet his standards he’s going to bench me too, appeal to your guilt complex.”

“Well, don’t worry too much about it.” Steve said, getting up from the bed and walking over to the bathroom.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sam asked.

“Enjoy your mission with Natasha.” Steve said, ignoring the question and closing the door. Sam dropped down on to the bed with a heavy sigh.

“ _Fuck_.”

~*~*~

Steve was still staring at his hands when the co-owner of the diner, Olivia who insisted everyone who came more than three times call her Mama Olive, approached him.

“You looking for the map to the fountain of youth in your hands, baby?” She asked, placing a full plate of food before him complete with healthy servings of buttermilk biscuits, rice and peas, curried goat, fried chicken and corn on the cob. Mama Olive had immediately been enamored by how much Steve could put away and made a silent challenge to see if he could clean his plate whenever he came. He usually did.

 _'Only you and the Lord knows where it all goes.'_ She had said.

He gave her a grateful look even though he hadn't ordered yet before answering her question.

“I already found it. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Most things aren’t.” She replied sympathetically.

“Where’s your fella? Sam didn't feel up to coming out tonight?” She asked.

“He’s… he’s back at the house.” Steve replied. He noticed Mama Olive staring at his face. He remembered his eyes were heavy and red, both from lack of sleep and tears. There were also scratches along his skin from Sam. He could see her connecting the dots in her head and he could only imagine the picture it painted. He quickly jumped to disabuse her of any negative notions.

“He’s not… I mean I don’t… I would never…” He couldn’t even bring himself to finish those sentences because once upon a time he would never have dreamt of it but he had. Mama Olive placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as tears began silently leaking down his face.

“Soul food is the best comfort food. I’ll bring you a second plate once you’re done.” She said, reaching up to wipe some of his tears away before retreating to the kitchen. Steve looked down at his plate. God, what had he done?

~*~*~

Sam couldn’t stop shaking. His vision was blurred from tears, his hand was throbbing where it was cradled in someone else’s, his neck felt just as shitty as his hand did and he couldn’t stop shaking. He tried to calm himself down and failed. Distantly he could hear someone was talking to him. It took a while for him to focus his ears enough to realize it was Natasha.

“Sam. Sam, look at me. Can you hear me?” His eyes flickered to her as she stood by the sink in his bathroom. Closer to him, cradling his hand, was Wanda.

“Should I help him?” She asked Natasha. Sam couldn’t speak, couldn’t decide one way or another if he was fine with it, but he knew he couldn’t calm himself. Natasha stared at him a moment more before nodding at Wanda. He felt her cool hands leave his and brush at his temples. Everything that happened in the last 36 hours passed by in a blur: the strong smell of eucalyptus and spearmint, the mission with Natasha in Algeria, the arguments with Steve, hands around his neck, the cold fear in his stomach that he was going to die right then and there. As quickly as the images came, they were gone leaving in their wake a strange sense of calm.

His body slumped as he sat on the toilet seat, leaning back against the toiletry stand. He felt like he was swimming. He was there and he could hear and see everything but he was in a dazed, docile state where nothing really phased him.

“Is his hand broken?” Natasha asked. Sam glanced down at it, his hand was shaking still, his fingers looking particularly mangled.

“Clean breaks. I can set them to avoid surgery and any undue pain but someone from the labs or the hospital will need to put a cast on him.” Wanda answered.

That was nice, Sam supposed. Avoiding unnecessary pain was always nice.

“Someone is usually always in the lab wing, no matter what time of night it is. Steve, will you go and…” Natasha trailed off as she paused outside the bathroom door.

“Steve?” She called, leaving the room altogether. Sam focused on Wanda using her powers to set his bones. He didn’t feel a thing. She really was a witch.

Natasha returned a few moments later, her face an obvious mask.

“Is he going to get the doctor?” Wanda asked.

“He’s not here.” Natasha replied after a moment’s hesitation, her eyes flicking over to Sam.

Sam didn’t feel a thing.

~*~*~

Steve was dreaming and he knew it because his body was his old body, not the one bought and paid for by the US government. He was in Brooklyn, old Brooklyn. He recognized the alleyways, the stores and the rundown, overcrowded tenements. However, it was quiet. Too quiet.

He walked through the streets and it felt like a ghost town, hallowed out and empty. As he walked he came upon his building and he could see a man sitting on the steps. He walked closer and as the person became clearer he realized it was Bucky. His steps became quicker and soon he was jogging over to him even though he was almost immediately out of breath. He kept running but it seemed like he never got any closer. The road stretched on for what seemed like forever.

There was a roaring sound building up and Steve looked up only to see a bomber plane flying overhead. It let out missiles that struck the apartment buildings and sent pieces of it crumbling to the ground. Slowly the scene around him changed to one of the battlefield.

Men were running around him and dying just as quickly. His body, as enhanced as it was now, couldn’t stop all of this from happening. All he could do was fight.

He took his shield off his back and threw it into the fray, fighting his way through it. All he could smell around him was blood and sweat and piss but he fought through it, slogging his way through the battlefield, killing any enemy combatant he could. After a while his feet started feeling like they were sinking and he looked down to see he was standing in a large mud pit. The ground was getting soggier and soggier as water emerged out of nowhere until it slowly began overtaking the field. Steve continued sinking while the others kept fighting around him and didn’t notice him at all.

All but one man.

Sam was running towards him, trying to get to him, but his efforts were only serving to make him sink too. Steve tried to call out to him, tried to tell him it wasn’t worth it, to save himself but it was no use. They were both going to die.

Steve sat up quickly. His breathing was heavy and panicked and logically he could see with his own eyes that he was in the Complex but he couldn't make his body respond to this logic. It took ten minutes for his breathing to regulate to something of normalcy and for his body to relax even minutely but he managed it. He looked beside him but Sam wasn’t there. Steve tried to remember why that was and eventually he remembered that Sam wasn’t there because Sam was away on a mission. Sam got to be away on missions because he was cleared to do so by Fury unlike Steve who was confined to the Complex training Wanda on hand-to-hand combat. Even in “death”, Fury was bossing him around. According to him, Steve wasn’t the pinnacle of mental wellness that Fury wanted him to be. With Tony’s blunder now looming over every move the Avengers made, the last thing they needed was a leader who wasn’t managing his PTSD.

The blonde sat up with a sigh, accepting the fact that he wasn’t going to get back to sleep. He didn’t sleep easy in general nowadays but it was worse on the nights when Sam wasn’t home. He pushed himself out of the bed and walked out to the living room. He and Sam had done some decorating on their respective wing of the Complex and the place seemed like a home even though Steve still felt cold sometimes when he was there. He walked over to the record player and started perusing the shelves of vinyl records. The player had been a housewarming gift from Sharon and Fury had given them their first records, Duke Ellington and Frank Sinatra. Over time they received more and bought some themselves. They sorted them chronologically and at this point they had about 200. Steve looked over the 60s shelves before pulling out the Otis Redding record, dropping it on the player and letting the dial scratch over it. The music began filling up the room with sweet, soulful melodies as he sat back on the couch. He closed his eyes but he knew he wasn’t going to sleep.

Sam found him there when he arrived home from Algeria. Steve’s eyes popped open at the elevator door opening and he looked over with a tired smile that Sam returned as he walked into the living room.

“Hey.” He said, leaning down to kiss him on the lips before dropping next to him on the couch.

“How was it?” Steve asked.

“It was fine. I think I pulled a muscle… in my lung. Trying to keep up with Natasha is a bitch.” Sam replied, leaning his head down on Steve’s shoulder.

“Slowpoke.” Steve teased.

“What about you? What are you doing up so early?”

“Nothing, just wanted to listen to some records.” Sam pulled his head off Steve’s shoulder and looked over at him with a scrutinizing gaze.

“How’d you sleep while I was gone?”

“Fine, fine.” Sam looked at him with disbelief.

“You know how it is. I’m just adjusting.” Sam’s look didn’t waver.

“We can’t all adjust as quickly as you do, Sam.” Steve replied, his voice full of agitation.

“I’m not implying that—”

“Then what are you implying?” He asked. He didn’t know why but he was itching for a fight and Sam was there. He knew he shouldn’t but he didn’t stop. Sam gave him a look.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is I’m stuck here while you get to be out there. How is that fair?”

“I didn’t choose that, Steve. Besides, why are you so gung-ho to throw yourself into battle? We see where…” Sam trailed off in a heated sigh.

“You know what? Forget it.”

“No, finish your sentence.”

“No, I’m not going to finish my sentence because you’re just going to use it against both of us later.”

“Tell me what you were going to say.”

“No. What I’m going to do is go take a shower then go to bed because I’m exhausted. Maybe in the morning you can use your big boy words and tell me why you’re acting like such an asshole.” Sam stood up and Steve watched him slightly limp towards their bathroom. He shut the door behind him and Steve immediately felt remorse well up in his chest. He wasn’t even mad at Sam. He missed him and that dream terrified him. He didn’t even know why he picked that fight.

He waited for Sam to finish his shower and then get dressed before he got off the couch and tentatively entered their bedroom. Sam was laying with his back to the door and didn’t move when Steve entered. Steve slipped into bed behind him and Sam tensed up. He slung an arm over his waist and kissed his shoulder and the side of his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just tired and keyed up and I was looking for a fight.” Sam sighed.

“I get it, you don’t want to talk about your feelings. The truth is the chances of finding a therapist who understands what you’ve been through is slim to none but talking to someone isn’t the only form of therapy in the world. I just want you to try, I want you to care enough about yourself to try to take care of you for once.” Sam turned over in the bed to stare at Steve.

“I need you. Fury needs you to be better so you can be Captain America. Natasha needs you to be better so she can have someone who she trusts back. Wanda needs a guiding hand. Vision needs an overseer. Rhodey needs an ally. But I just need _you_. You: Steve Rogers, the man I love. I need you to be here, alive and whole. If something ever happened to you—”

“Sam, it won’t.”

“But it could. One mistake, one slip-up, one moment of being too tired or too bogged down by memories. One second is all it takes for someone to get the drop on you and then it’s over and I’m alone. I don’t care how selfish this makes me or how against my training this is, I’m telling you that if you won’t get help for yourself, do it for me. Do _something_ because this isn’t working and I feel like I’m bashing my head against a wall talking to you about this over and over.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve said placatingly as Sam’s voice grew heavy with tears. He pulled him into an embrace and rubbed his hand over his back in a calming manner.

“I’ll look into it, I promise. I’ll do it for you.” Steve whispered into his ear. Sam nodded against his shoulder, breathing deeply.

“Come on, let’s try to get some sleep before morning.” Steve said, pulling the covers up and over them. Sam sighed, nuzzling into Steve’s chest. Steve pulled him closer as he stared at the ceiling wondering about the promise he just made, knowing full well he had no motivation to see it through but also knowing he couldn’t let Sam down.

~*~*~

It was still nighttime.

That was the first real lucid thought Sam had when the real him finally resurfaced from beneath Wanda’s magic. His eyes took in the room. He was in Natasha’s living room. Her section of the house was closest to the lab wing and one of the doctors who worked there came and put a plaster cast on Sam’s hand after using a portable x-ray to confirm that Wanda had set his fingers correctly.

After the doctor left, Natasha and Wanda sat Sam down by himself to surf the wave of Wanda’s magic and the two started making calls. Their voices registered to him and he realized they were looking for Steve but the implications of the fact that they were looking for Steve (i.e. Steve was missing) didn’t sink in.

They seemed distressed. Sam thought he would be distressed too except whatever Wanda did kept him somewhere just below well-balanced. It reminded him of the one time he smoked weed. A childhood friend brought it to him after his father died to help him forget the pain. It worked but Sam’s mind had been hazy, his worries just out of reach, and Sam hated it. He wanted to feel the pain and the worry. It anchored him enough to keep going. The present was no exception so once he felt the fog starting to dissipate, he mentally clawed his way back up to the surface and observed his surroundings.

He could see from the windows that it was still nighttime. Natasha and Wanda were no longer making calls but quietly conversing with one another a few feet away from him. Sam’s hand was still shaking and hurting like a mother and his neck was throbbing. His head also hurt. Probably from when he and Steve fell off the bed and he hit his head against the dresser and then the floor.

Steve.

Sam remembered their fights and hands around his neck and fear.

He remembered first kisses and long road-trips and love.

He felt hurt and pain and devastation.

He felt longing and worry and desperation.

Steve wasn’t there. That fact was finally sinking in for Sam.

Steve wasn’t there. Of course Steve wasn’t there. Steve wouldn’t have stuck around after what happened, he’d want to go somewhere far away from Sam. Somewhere where he thought Sam wouldn’t be hurt and no one would be able to find him. They hadn’t been in upstate New York long and they didn’t have time to go many places anyway. Sam wracked his mind over where he could be before it hit him.

“I know where he is.” He announced. The two women turned to look at him, both with surprise and concern.

“Sam. Are you okay?” Wanda asked.

“Not really, no.” Sam replied, pushing himself carefully off the couch despite Wanda and Natasha’s protests.

“Be careful.” Natasha warned.

“You should rest. I can—” Wanda advised.

“You’re not putting me back under. Thank you for helping me but no. I don’t need rest, I need painkillers, preferably oxy or something just as strong, and for one of you to drive me to where Steve is.”

"We can't find him. No one's seen him and he isn't answering his phone." Natasha reasoned.

"I told you, I know where he is.”

“How?” Natasha asked.

“I know him. I know where he’ll be. Just take me there. I need to talk to him." Natasha and Wanda traded worried looks before Natasha nodded.

“Fine.”

~*~*~

Steve was dreaming again and he couldn’t wake up. He was back in the war, right in the thick of it. Everything was exploding and people were dying and he wasn’t enough to stop it. He wasn’t enough to carry out Erskine’s vision, to stop this war, to save their lives. He almost regretted joining this hell willingly. Bucky was right, this place was far removed from an alleyway in Brooklyn but Steve could make out his men fighting in the crowds, he could see Bucky running into the line of fire to save whoever he could and Peggy was here even though Captain Phillips specifically told her not to be. He had to focus.

There was a bomber plane flying overhead and the blades of it almost drowned out the explosions but it couldn’t stop the hyperawareness he had of someone coming up behind him, the heat of his weapon charging up noticeable to Steve’s enhanced senses. He turned abruptly, his hand lashing out to wrap around the other man’s throat. He couldn’t see the other man’s face behind the helmet but his panic was palpable as his fingers clawed at Steve’s around his throat.

The man managed to pry his hand between his throat and Steve’s grip but Steve pressed harder, feeling the man’s bones crack under the pressure. He felt something claw at his face but neither of the man’s hands were reaching out towards him. Abruptly he felt himself shift and looked around in confusion as the scene went topsy-turvy and he found himself back in his bedroom.

He looked around with muddled understanding. The moon was splashing in from the window and he could clearly see the dresser straight ahead of him from where he’d apparently fallen on to the floor. The ceiling fan was making a noise that resembled the bomber from his dream and a gurgling sound was steadily rising above that. Steve looked down and gasped when he realized Sam was under him, his skin turning blue and his eyes blown in panic while Steve’s hands were wrapped tightly around his throat. The only reason he hadn’t crushed it completely seemed to be because Sam managed to get one of his hands between Steve’s and his throat.

Steve abruptly pulled away crawling off Sam, a feeling of utter and complete horror rising in him. Sam laid on the floor coughing and gasping. The hand that had been between Steve and his throat was obviously broken in multiple places and swelling already, the air sounded like it was barely making it into his lungs and his throat was turning red. Steve swallowed down his feelings and crawled over to his boyfriend.

“Sam.” He said, reaching over but Sam flinched away from his grasp. Steve’s face crumpled and he flinched back as well.

“Sam.” He knew his voice sounded audibly heartbroken, not that he had that right but he couldn’t mask it. Sam’s gasps got louder and started to sound more like sobs as he pushed himself to his knees and then his feet slightly. Steve watched him half crawl, half run out of the room and book it towards the bathroom. He went to follow but Sam slammed the door in his face. He could break it down but after what he had just done, he stopped himself before he scared Sam even more. Instead he knocked as lightly as he could.

“Sam, can you please open the door?” Steve asked. His only answer was Sam’s gasping sobs.

“Sam, please.” Steve tried to keep his voice steady but it was getting harder and harder.

“Sam, I need to see you. I need to make sure you’re okay. Please, open the door.” He asked, knocking again. Sam still didn’t answer him. Steve pushed away from the door, wiping the tears that welled in his eyes. He couldn’t just leave Sam in there but he didn’t want to scare him any more than he had already.

He made his way back to the bedroom and grabbed his cell phone. He went to the contacts list which was opened to his frequent calls. He bypassed Sam’s name and Fury’s alias, deciding it was better not to deal with him. Natasha’s name was third on the list.

“Romanoff.” She answered after two rings. Her voice didn’t sound like he had woken her despite the facts that it was the middle of the night and she had just come off a mission.

“I need you in our wing. I did… I messed up.” He tried to put on his ‘Captain Rogers’ voice but the events had left him too shaken and he fell apart mid-sentence. Natasha paused before speaking again.

“What does that mean?”

“Sam. I… I hurt him and I don’t know if he’s okay.”

“I’m on my way.” She said hanging up. Steve walked back to the bathroom door and slide down to the ground, his back leaned against the door. Sam’s sobs had quieted slightly but Steve could still hear him through the door even without his enhanced hearing. He closed his eyes but he couldn’t un-see himself with his hands wrapped around Sam’s neck. If Sam hadn’t had his hand in the way then Steve probably would’ve… he could’ve woke up to find Sam…

After about two minutes of listening to Sam gasp and cry in the bathroom, the elevators dinged and then opened. Steve quickly stood up to meet her.

“Report?” Steve knew he was dealing with Agent Romanoff here and he was grateful for it, he didn’t think he could be levelheaded and deal with Nat in this situation. Sam needed her, not him. He watched her slowly shift into that person once he told her what happened, her gaze soft as she glanced at the bathroom door.

“He’s in there?” She confirmed. Steve nodded and Natasha walked past him before pausing and turning to him.

“It’s not your fault.” Steve gave her a dubious look at that. She didn’t bother driving that point home and turned back to the bathroom door. She knocked lightly and called to Sam. After a moment, he opened the door for her and she slipped in, closing the door behind her.

Steve stared at the door. He felt something he didn’t quite understand or recognize until he felt his body moving. He went to the bedroom and pulled on his sneakers and a light jacket, not caring that he was in his pajamas, and walked over to the elevator. He pressed the button for the elevator and when it didn’t come quickly enough, he walked over to the door for the staircase. He walked down the stairs at a leisure pace at first but as soon as he got out the Complex into the driveway, he found himself running with no direction. He just knew he couldn’t be in the same place as Sam.

He always held the belief that he needed to protect Sam from this world. While that might be true, he was just rudely confronted with the notion that perhaps he was a part of that danger.

~*~*~

Natasha parked outside of Donovan and Livvy’s Curry, Chicken & Biscuits in silence. The car ride from the Complex had been shrouded in silence as well. Natasha drove with Sam in the passenger seat, painkiller’s metabolizing in his system so he could withstand the somewhat bumpy ride. Wanda sat in the back. She didn’t say the reason she tagged along was to intervene should things become violent but Sam could feel her giving off that vibe. He was both grateful for her presence as well as the opposite. Steve didn’t hurt him in aggression or because he was some limp-dick, abusive asshole. It was a mistake, an accident, something he wouldn’t consciously do. At the same time the image of Steve above him, his eyes lifeless and without any sign of care or love as he set out to literally choke the life out of him was burned into his brain. It would probably never go away.

Wanda placed a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder as if she could hear what he was thinking. Sam realized she probably could and with that thought he decided he was ready to go inside.

“You guys stay here, I need to talk to him in private.” Sam said.

“Are you sure about that?” Natasha asked.

“It’s fine.” Sam replied, pushing the car door open and making his way into the restaurant/bakery.

Steve was the only patron at this hour, just past four in the morning. Sam adjusted the scarf around his neck as he glanced towards the kitchen. He gave Mama Olive a wave as she spotted him before he made his way over to where Steve sat staring at his full plate. His mind flashed back to the bedroom as he caught sight of Steve but he shook the image away. He’d let Dr. Singh have a field day with it later, right now he needed to make sure his boyfriend didn’t run out on him. He took a deep breath before sitting down across from him. Steve didn’t look up at him or acknowledge his presence.

“Mama Olive will be pissed if you waste her food.” Sam commented offhand, his voice sounding hoarse.

“It’s my second plate and she said she’d make it to go if I wanted.”

“I’m sure she’d love that.” Steve looked at him, peeking up through his eyelashes.

“Hi.” Sam said. They’d probably been apart for three hours, four at most, but it felt like a lot longer than that.

“Hey.” Steve replied softly before looking back down at his plate. The two sat silently for a moment, neither sure what to say. The air was heavy with so many things and neither was sure they wanted to be caught in the deluge of rain that would surely result from the bubble bursting.

“Did you come alone?” Steve asked suddenly.

“No. Nat and Wanda are in the car.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be alone around me anymore.” Sam shrugged after a moment.

“Maybe not. Here I am.”

“We should probably talk, huh?” Sam chuckled a little, his voice getting on the rougher side as his throat throbbed.

“That’d probably be a good idea at this point but is there anything else left to say?” Steve glanced up at him again and stared hard at the scarf around his neck, hiding the red marks that were setting in on his skin. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat before reaching over to Steve’s plate and grabbing a biscuit. It was kind of cold but it was still good. He began nibbling on it to fill the air with some noise as neither spoke. Sam wasn’t sure how much time passed before Steve finally decided to say something.

“My dad died during World War I.” He said suddenly. Sam looked up slightly startled at both him talking and the sentence.

“I know.”

“My mom, she… there was this guy she used to be with. It was an on and off again thing. He was a doctor. Or he used to be, he lost his license on account of the fact that he was a drunk but he had connections. He would give me free check-ups and refer me to some of his friends to get medicine and other things I needed. I was really sick and we were really poor so it worked out. Except… except he would hit us. It could be anything that triggered it, didn’t really matter as long as he could get his hands on one of us. My mother would provoke him so she was the one who got the worst of it. He would hit her and she would just keep getting back up. He’d hit her again and she would get right back up and it’d keep going until he’d get bored and find something else to do.”

“You never told me that before.” Sam said, staring at Steve hard.

“Didn’t have a reason to before. Ma, after it happened, she would hug me tight. I’d be crying and freaking out but she would calm me down. I would ask her why she wouldn’t just stay down, make it easier for herself but she would tell me that I had to always stand up and she would make me promise to never be like him.”

“Steve…” Sam trailed off as Steve looked up at him, tears falling down his cheek.

“I wasn’t going to… I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry. I’ve never—I didn’t…” He trailed off, looking away from Sam as sobs clawed up his throat. Sam sniffled and held back the tears gathering in his eyes. He wanted to go to the other side of the table and hold his hand, tell him everything was okay but… but, he was afraid. That realization made the tears Sam was holding back finally fall.

“I am not okay, Sam. I keep thinking that everyone is ganging up on me but I didn’t realize how not okay all of this is until… I hurt you. I put my hands on you. It doesn’t matter to me that I was asleep, I don’t care that it wasn’t a conscious decision, it happened. I did that.” Sam took a deep breath.

“Well, we can sit here and cry about all night. That’ll be cathartic and maybe helpful in its own right but doing nothing isn’t our M.O. We don’t just sit on things, we act, we do something about it. You may have forgotten that about us but that’s why I’m reminding you now. We’re a team and we haven’t been on the same page in a while. Hell, we’ve been reading different books but we fix that now. We can call Fury, he’ll show up before we even know it and he’ll get us the resources we need to be back at 100%. That’s if you want it. If you don’t want it, then I can’t—”

“I do. I want it. I know I’m supposed to do this for me but I can’t lose you, not to these… things in my head. I won’t. If there is even a chance that doing this means you forgive me and we can be okay, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever Fury says.” Sam stared at Steve to see if he was just placating him again like in the bedroom but Sam could tell he wasn’t lying.

“You might regret that you said that.” Sam said, trying to go for some levity.

“I won’t. Not if it’s for you.” Sam should probably tell him to do it for himself but instead he nodded.

“Okay.” Things weren’t okay. They were far from being okay but maybe there was hope for them if they tried hard enough.


End file.
